One Flew Over the Sniper's Nest
by PaazPeytProductions
Summary: In which a pair of ambiguously psychotic snipers engage in the greatest duel known to thirteen-year-old nutjobs. There is much on the line: pride, friendship, even life itself. Drunk, grieving, and wholly confused, Mordecai finds himself struggling just to keep up with the ever-surprising Zer0 and his little game. Just what is going on in that helmet of his?
1. Chapter 1

The ground trembled with each loud " _BANG_!", sending tiny pebbles scattering across the arid, broken ground. The baking-hot sun threw its rays mercilessly against leather, which, in retrospect, probably wasn't the wisest of fashion choices. A grunt punctuated every forceful beat in some monotonous rhythm, causing dull shocks to go racing up a pair of slender legs.

Zer0 shifted his weight from foot to foot, not much enjoying the vibrating sensation that was cascading through his body. Despite his discomfort, he stayed silent, instead contenting himself by crossing his arms and staring at the man before him with what he clearly thought was a reproachful glare. Of course, due in no small part to the assassin's lack of obvious emotional cues, his point fell woefully short of its mark. He remedied this by allowing himself a small, disdainful cough.

The cacophonous banging stopped, and a pair of sharp eyes turned, squinting, at him in the harsh, but quickly fading, sunlight. "You got somethin' you wanna say to me, Princess?" the gruff voice spat through a mouthful of nails. "Or are you good just standin' there an' watchin'?" The man returned his focus to the work before him: a scrappy skeleton of a hut held together by glue, duct tape, and bandit intestines. Crouching next to a jagged tear in the wall that functioned as a door, he returned to hammering away at the damage.

"Our time is wasting. / We must find the others soon, / You drunken bastard." Zer0's curt words seemed to get their desired effect, as Mordecai threw down his hammer furiously.

"Look, I get it! I crashed the ride! Big deal!" The hunter had turned on Zer0 in an instant, bearing fangs not unlike the many twisted creatures of Pandora. If Zer0 could smell through that mask of his, the overwhelming scent of cheap whiskey would have shriveled his insides. "But right now, there are bigger things to worry about. Namely, making sure we're well-protected while we wait for the others to come around." He deigned to not mention the completely fried communicator that lay abandoned a few feet away, soaked in spilt rotgut. "They'll find us. Eventually. And if you hadn't been tryin' to get all fancy on that turret, you wouldn't have gotten the attention of every psycho in the valley. So get the _fuck_ off my back." Mordecai's rant died down to a menacing growl in his throat. So provoked was he that his forehead nearly clanked against the smooth curve of Zer0's helmet, who, to his credit, didn't so much as flinch at the intoxicated sniper's rage.

For a long moment, neither man dared to step down from the other's challenging glare, the fiery drunk versus the icy enigma, until something most unexpected flashed across Zer0's visor.

'XD'.

Mordecai recoiled back at once, his anger bubbling to a white-hot fury. " _You find somethin' funny, Princess_?!"

"I suppose I might / find something most humorous, / that being your face." A cold monotone had never sounded so smug.

"You _suck_ ," Mordecai sighed in defeat, turning away from his ambiguous-in-many-ways companion. He picked up the hammer once more.

Seemingly happy with his apparent victory, Zer0 stalked haughtily past Mordecai, pulling his rifle from his back and holding it in an infuriatingly complacent manner. In a few lithe jumps, he had scaled the rock-face which Mordecai was building their little fort against. After a rather vigorous chase from the wreckage of their Runner, Mordecai and Zer0 had found themselves tearing up the steep incline of one of Pandora's many tall bluffs with quite a few babbling, axe-wielding madmen in hot pursuit. In an impressive display of badassery that was only expected of Vault Hunters, the two men had effectively slaughtered a hefty portion of the horde, leaving the rest to scramble back down the slope and away. Predicting reinforcements, Mordecai immediately went to work creating a makeshift eagle's nest, not unlike the one he spent most of his off-time in nowadays. Zer0, on the other hand, scoffed at such precautions, citing the wily nature of the wasteland psychos as reason enough that they would not soon be bothered by that particular crowd.

"They scream their anger, / Mixed with absolute terror. / _We_ need not fear _them_ ," he chided tauntingly, perched atop the rocky cliff just above Mordecai. As he spoke, he peered through his scope: not a psycho in sight.

"Oh, will you knock that warrior poet shit off for two seconds?" Mordecai said irritably, his mouth full of nails yet again. "I'm gettin' real fuckin' tired of it."

"Uncultured, uncouth, / Lacking sophistication. / What, are you jealous?"

Mordecai snorted incredulously. " _Pendejo_..."

"Let's play a game, then. / A test of honor and grace, / daring honesty." Zer0's unnerving voice picked up slightly, with some strain that just might have been amusement. Mordecai, taking a minute to process his last bout of cryptic nonsense, whirled about to fix him with a wild stare. His rifle lying forgotten by his side, Zer0 was settled on the edge of his roost like an overgrown bird. Behind that visor of his, whatever there might be, Mordecai was certain that Zer0 was smirking.

"Did you just ask me," Mordecai said slowly, not quite believing the ridiculousness of the situation himself, "to play _truth or friggin' dare_ with you?"

Zer0 cocked his head in a disturbing imitation of innocence. "The tiny one says, / " _Dis game da bomb, fo' shizzle._ " / I like bombs a lot."

"Are you fucking seri-" Mordecai didn't bother finishing his exasperated statement, rubbing his eyes wearily. Honestly, he already felt like he was going insane at that point, so what was the harm? "You know what? Fine. Whatever. Can't be any worse than any of Tina's other bright ideas. Might as well kill some time, anyways." Casting a contemptuous glance around at the 'camp', for lack of a better word, that he had set up, he found himself begrudgingly satisfied. The bluff was easily defensible by a pair of highly-skilled snipers, and the hasty barricades he had conjured up were at least passable, given the circumstances. "Yeah, sure, ya freak. Hit me with your best shot."

Zer0 offered no further reaction to his resignation than a flashing red ':D'. On the inside, however, the mind of a deadly assassin was moving in on its prey.


	2. Chapter 2

Mordecai settled into the shade of his quickly constructed barricade, not daring to put his weight fully upon it, for several reasons. Not only for fear of it collapsing, but also to avoid contact with its unpleasant coat of gore. Much of the wall was crafted from the remnants of the Runner, large chunks of which the two Vault Hunters had used to bludgeon the swarming psychos to death with. A particularly long strand of some unfortunate bastard's small intestine hung uncomfortably close to Mordecai's left ear.

Studying Zer0 with a firm scowl, Mordecai brushed bits of badland rubble from his leg absently. After an awkward stretch of silence, the hunter snapped, " _Well_ , Princess? Ladies first."

His obvious disdain for the scenario at hand did nothing to dissuade Zer0 from his latest conviction. A brief smile flashed across his visor, before he spoke in that eerie, measured tone of his: "For your first challenge, / do you wish to test courage? / Or your honesty?"

"Oh, for _fuck's_ sake, just say _'truth or dare'_ like a normal person…" Mordecai sighed and fixed him with a look of utmost dislike. He clucked his tongue impatiently at the quietly waiting assassin. "Dare."

Zer0 tilted his head ever-so-slightly, as if deep in thought. He considered Mordecai in silence for a long moment. The blank, eyeless stare made him itch all over.

"A hunter knows life. / Not just to take, he must tame. / Ride a skag… unclothed." He paused before that last word. Though his tone was flat and cold, Mordecai could picture a note of relish in it. He narrowed his eyes.

"You're sick," he grunted, somewhat perturbed by the task Zer0 had set for him. Nudity, for one, wasn't a concept Mordecai thought Zer0 even knew of. He was more than half-convinced the assassin slept with his helmet on.

As if he had read his mind, Zer0 immediately quipped, "Tiny Tina said, / "Dares have to be done naked." / That is just the rule." An unnervingly friendly smiley face shone blood red against black. No matter how many runs he went on with that guy, Mordecai doubted he'd ever find 'friendly' to be a fitting description of Zer0. Ironically enough, he just couldn't trust someone who wore a mask like that.

Mordecai grumbled. "I worry about that kid. She ain't right in the head." He got to his feet with a huff, undoing his belt with exaggerated movement in order to convey the exact degree of displeasure he found in the whole situation. "I'm drunk off my ass and I _still_ think this is a fuckin' terrible idea. My _huevos_ are _not_ gonna like this." He cringed at the very thought as he threw his gloves to the side, but he was no coward. A dare was a dare.

Undressing proved to be a more challenging task than was probably logical. Draped in crisscrossing sashes, bandages, and an assortment of random scraps of leather, Mordecai soon found himself in an unending tangle of fabric and seething rage. One arm was pinned to his back after he had attempted to remove the wrong scarf first, and he was certain his other wrist was bent at an angle it definitely should not have been bent at.

"You seem to be stuck," Zer0 observed helpfully from his perch. He sat idly, legs crossed with his elbows resting on his knees, apparently enjoying the show. "I wonder if you need aid? / Say the magic words."

"Go fuck yourself," Mordecai replied promptly, neck twisted as far as it could in an attempt to grab the hilt of his hunting knife with his teeth. A mocking heart popped up on Zer0's visor. _'Damn sassy ninja-aliens.'_

Through an impressive display of dexterity and surprising flexibility, Mordecai unsheathed his dagger and carefully slid it down by his collarbone. Making sure the blade was facing away, he quickly jerked his head up, swinging the knife with it. A loud tearing sound met his ears, a noise akin to a chorus of angels, and his trapped arm was freed from its prison. Shaking his hand out of the ruined scarf, he pulled shreds of faded red cloth away and tossed them aside into a careless pile. He set about removing his clothes again, this time with a bit more caution. Though he wouldn't admit it, the ruination of his scarf upset him greatly. He would be sure to sew it up later, an act he would be even more adamant against admitting.

Finally, his multitude of tastefully tattered accessories had been removed, leaving the hunter in a simple, similarly worn-out outfit. As he pulled the last misshapen scrap of leather which constituted a 'top' from his torso, Mordecai frowned, staring down at his body. He had always been reminiscent of a twig in terms of size, but he seemed even skinnier than usual. Sullenly, he acknowledged the reasoning behind that in his mind. There was a lightness on his shoulder he was unaccustomed to, and he was pretty sure he never was going to be used to it. Booze supplanted actual nutrition in the wake of tragedy, and the toll it was taking on Mordecai physically was clear. The lean muscles of his abdomen pressed against his waxy skin, giving him an odd appearance of being both malnourished and fit. It made him look rather... sickly.

Zer0's face never wavered from his direction as he stripped. The assassin's chin was supported by his hands, appearing much like a child held in rapt attention. The thought of being self-conscious under the intense stare crossed Mordecai's mind briefly, but in the end he decided not to care. For one, his short-lived relationship with Mad Moxxi had been most effective at siphoning out any semblance of modesty he might have once had. Secondly, Zer0 was just as stick-like as he was, if not moreso, so he couldn't say anything.

Mordecai's frown didn't budge as he stared the assassin down, hand lingering on the waistband of his pants. Zer0 still did not look away. It was like having a staring contest with a cat. The hunter scoffed irritably. "You gettin' off on this or what?" His sarcasm was almost palpable.

A long pause from Zer0. Just when Mordecai thought he might have actually left the guy speechless, he responded, "Don't flatter yourself. / Only carnage bears my lust, / not pathetic drunks." He spoke a little too quickly.

"Gee, thanks, Princess," Mordecai jeered, yanking down his pants with more force than was strictly necessary. His sarcasm was reaching dangerous levels. "Love ya too, you _dick_." He hesitated, reaching up towards his bandana and goggles. "Do I gotta take these off too?" For some reason that seemed strange even to him, he'd feel even more naked without something to cover his head than he would without pants. The sun hung low on the Pandoran skyline, casting a warm orange glow against his bared flesh. At least he didn't have to worry about freezing.

Another silence. Slowly this time, Zer0 answered, "I can understand / the need to cover one's face. / I will allow it."

Mordecai blinked. "Uhh... thanks."

Zer0 nodded, standing. "Let us find a skag. / Your task requires completion. / Sunlight is wasting."

The hunter sighed. "Let's just get this over with..."


End file.
